


Twilight Basement

by nzeedee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Movie Night, Post-Chapter 4: The Last Picture Show, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nzeedee/pseuds/nzeedee
Summary: Archie apologizes to Jughead by preserving the Twilight Drive-In in his basement.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Even though Archie is a total mess constantly, he manages to put in extra effort when it comes to his platonic boyfriend.

Standing outside the Andrews residence is not where Jughead wants to be in light of recent events. Losing the Twilight Drive-In is one thing and Andrews Construction being the company to tear it down is another. He should have been standing there a week ago with a picket sign protesting his heart out. Archie and him got into a fight about it earlier that week that almost resulted in a fist fight. Jughead may have been overreacting when he hoped that Archie would pull some strings and halt the destruction because it was his father’s company. But he had every right to be pissed at Archie for not bothering to show up for closing night! They haven’t spoken since their quarrel at school. That was until Archie begged Jughead to come over Saturday night at seven o’clock sharp because he had a surprise waiting.

So that is where Jughead stands that Saturday night, not wanting to give Archie the time of the day but allowing it due to peaked curiosity. He sighs and rings the doorbell, waiting barely a minute before Archie fills the doorframe.

“Hey, Jug.” Archie says, a small smile curling on his lips. He looks surprised that Jughead showed up at all.

_That makes two of them._

“Hey.” Jughead replies bluntly. His presence on Archie’s doorstep did not have an effect on his feelings. “May I come in? Or did you want to stare at me till we start arguing again?” He questions when Archie makes no move to get out of the doorway.

“No! I mean, yes. Yes, you can come in.” He finally steps out of the way. 

Jughead walks past him then pivots on his heel. “So you’ve peaked my interest, what’s the surprise?”

“Right.” Archie’s face drops, as if he was hoping Jughead showed up for another reason. “It’s in the basement, come with me.” He squeezes past his guest and sprints down the hall, sliding across the floorboards when he rounds the corner. He throws open the basement door, reminding Jughead of how Archie would act during their visits as kids. The only change is that now his dinosaur pyjama pants fit him properly.

Jughead follows after him with less enthusiasm, descending unfinished basement stairs. “I hope the surprise is that you found my favourite sweater that I lost here.”

“Jug, you lost that sweater like six years ago. If it was in this house I would have found it by now. As if it would still fit you anyway.”

“It would hold sentimental value.” They reach the bottom of the stairs and Jughead nudges a partially deflated soccer ball with his toe. With the amount of clutter in that basement, his sweater could definitely be hiding under a pile of junk.

He looks up when Archie doesn’t respond and is greeted with a cozy set up. Various fairy lights twinkle across the walls and glowing generic celestial body shapes plaster the ceiling. Below the fake night sky, an old tattered couch is coated in blankets and a scratched coffee table is covered in packets of candy, soda cans, and a bowl of popcorn.

He sidesteps around the couch and pulls a gummy worm from an open packet. He tears off one end with his teeth and chews, “Did you think inviting me over for snack foods reminiscent of the drive-in would make me feel better about losing my home away from home?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking that I could maybe bring a piece of your home back to you.” He grips the hem of a sheet forming a curious lump on a table behind the couch and yanks it off to reveal an old movie projector.

But it wasn’t any old movie projector. It was the old projector from the Twilight Drive-In.

Jughead gapes at the projector, almost in disbelief that it was the same one he grew to love and cherish. He figured it would have been trashed along with the rest of the drive-in when it was dozed earlier that week. He steps closer to get a better look in the dimly lit room but he would know it anywhere. “How did you get this?” Jughead asks, gently running his fingertips over the frame of the machine.

“I convinced my dad to let me take it from the job site before they started bulldozing. Since they were planning on disposing of the contents anyway he didn’t put up too much of a fight. I know how much that place meant to you so I thought saving the projector would be like preserving a key component of the drive-in.” Archie pauses, watching his friend soak in memories. Jughead turns his gaze and they lock eyes for the briefest moment. “And that’s not all I saved.” He springs over the back of the couch, stumbling over warped cushions to a metal shelf covered by an old plaid blanket. He pulls back the fabric, revealing stacks of flat metal canisters labelled with masking tape pealing at the ends.

“Dude…” Jughead whispers as he scrambles across the room. He collides with the shelf, running his hands over familiar stories. Every movie he loves so dearly is safe, and not crushed into rubble or stashed in darkness. “As much as I would hate to admit it, your surprise is impressive.” Jughead says, rubbing his thumb over a peeling label.

“It’s the least I could do after being a terrible friend to you lately. I felt personally responsible because my father’s company tore down the drive-in and put you out of work.” He backs away from the shelf, “I know I can’t give you your job back, but _can_ give you a piece of the drive-in.” Archie turns away and stretches upwards, reaching for a black cord dangling from the ceiling. He pulls it, uncurling a white screen. “Ta-Da!” Archie straightens and throws open his arms, smiling like a dope.

Jughead slowly returns his hands to his jacket pockets and raises an eyebrow, waiting for Archie’s proposal.

“Jughead Jones,” Archie begins, “Would you, as my very platonic boyfriend, be my date for the first screening in the Twilight Basement?”

He exhales a huff of laughter, “Yes, I will. _But_ only because I know you have no idea how to use the projector.”

Archie grins, sliding a Twizzler from its package and sticking the free end between his teeth. “Guilty,” He mumbles around the candy and flops back onto the far end of the couch. He reclines with one arm spread along the backrest and the other propped up on the armrest. He hooks his right foot around the leg of the coffee table and drags it closer to comfortably rest his heel upon the wood.

Jughead rolls his eyes and drops his bag to the floor. He files through the movies, settling on _The Last Picture Show_ and threads it through the projector like it is second nature. Nothing like watching an iconic film about a culturally and economically dying town to remind them why they are watching movies in a basement instead of a drive-in.

The film begins to roll and he manoeuvres between the end of the couch and a heap of boxes to join Archie. He assesses the seating situation casually. Usually he would keep his distance and stay within his personal bubble at the end of the couch, but Archie is different.

Archie sits like an _invitation_. A possibility or option.

He strips off his jacket and tosses it over the armrest, remaining in a dark green sweater. He crawls across the threadbare cushions, settling snugly against Archie’s side and propping his feet up on the table. He drapes a blanket haphazardly over their laps then leans forward, throwing the open pack of Twizzlers into Archie’s lap and retrieving the popcorn bowl.

Film audio and the stuttered whirring of the projector fill the room. The ambiance is perfect for proper cinematic viewing, or it at least feels that way to Jughead. As much as he would like to thank the fairly lights, popcorn, or glow stars for the comforting surroundings, he knows Archie is the cause of it all.

Jughead straightens, since he had sunken deeper into the couch during the movie. He twists towards Archie and stares at his profile momentarily, then pokes him in the ribs to get his attention. “Thank you for this, dude.” He smiles fondly, “It is the noblest of apologies.”

“Don’t thank me, Jug. It’s the least I could do for you.” Archie places a hand lightly behind his friend’s head, using his thumb to pull back the edge of Jughead’s hat enough to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Jughead sighs and slides down, resting his head on Archie’s chest for the remaining duration of the film. He missed the comfort in Archie’s touch and missed having his friend to himself. He wishes things would go back to normal, but times are changing in Riverdale and relationships are not an exception. His friendship with Archie is supposed to last through anything. They have had each other’s backs since childhood and Jughead isn’t about to let that change. The Twilight Drive-In can be torn down and forgotten, it was a material place incapable of conforming to advancement. Eternal things can self-correct and learn to withstand all odds. Evolve and overcome. He and Archie’s friendship would evolve through trial and error situations, self-correcting over and over as they age. The payoff would always be worth the strain.

“Jug?” Archie snaps him out of his thoughts with a gentle nudge. Jughead sits up and clears his throat, realizing the movie is over. Archie tilts his head, “Jug, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it about how the sky is falling?” Jughead jokes, plucking a fallen glow star off the couch and sticking it to Archie’s chest.

He receives no laugher, just a serious expression complete with knit eyebrows and slightly down curled lips.

Jughead’s stomach twists and he scoots away from Archie, “What’s wrong?”

“When I went to the drive-in to get the projector and films,” Archie begins softly, “I noticed the small cot and…I know you spent a lot of time there.”

Jughead tenses and diverts his eyes. He was hoping to keep up his charade till graduation at least. A pile of rubble ratted him out with its final breath.

Archie leans over to catch Jughead’s averted gaze, “Did you sleep there? No. Did you _live_ there?”

His first instinct is to cover up his tracks with sarcasm and snarky remarks. He opens his mouth to allow a series of outlandish lies pour from his lips, but the sympathetic concern prevents it. He sighs, “Maybe it wasn’t so much a home _away_ from home.”

“It was just your _home._ ” Archie finishes the confession.

There is a long pause and the room fills with silence after the projector sputters to a halt when the last of the film is spent.

“Buddy,” Archie places a hand on Jughead’s shoulder and squeezes, “if you ever need a place for the night, you can sleep on the couch down here. Or a place to stay or hang out, you are always welcome in my house.”

Jughead snorts, “I’m pretty sure you’re just creating reasons to see me because you miss me.”

Archie grins, “I will admit that is part of it, but I do want you to be safe.”

Jughead drops his head to watch his fingers idly play with a tuft of thread poking out of the couch. The set up was no five star hotel but it is significantly better than his current nothing. He would find a moderately permanent place eventually, he always does, but maybe having a backup plan is the right choice. He certainly wouldn’t stay every night, even two nights in a row would feel like pushing it. He avoided developing a dependence on pity. Perhaps he would take to Archie’s couch on overly chilly nights, or when he needs to charge his laptop, or when he _really_ misses his best friend.

“Fine,” He deflates, “Thank you.” He pauses to stare at the glow star still stuck to Archie’s shirt. “I’ll tell you what,” he proposes, “I will stay the night _if_ it means nonstop movies.”

“Yes!” Archie laughs, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Jughead hauls himself off the couch to select the next film. “So much for mutually suppressing our emotions like bros,” he murmurs as he scans the film titles. “Since the sky is falling, I think it calls for some sci-fi,” he chooses _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_ then moves to feed it into the projector.

“Are we watching all genres tonight?”

“You can bet on it.”

Jughead swaps the movies and threads the new film through the projector. The picture flickers to life on screen but Jughead’s eyes are elsewhere. He takes a moment to admire the room, deciding that aside from the boxes of junk he likes the new Twilight Basement. It is no drive-in but it has its own perks. His gaze wanders to the back of Archie’s red head of hair muted by the dim light.

Aside from the countless times Archie has seriously messed up, like ditching their road trip or skipping out on the drive-in’s closing night, he knows how to apologize if he is dedicated to the cause. Goes to show that their relationship is meaningful to him too. They could patch things up over many movie nights and many bowls of buttery popcorn.

The hot head under that fiery red hair belongs to him. His idiot. His mess. His boyfriend.

_His home away from home._

**Author's Note:**

> The 'five star hotel' comment? No suite life references in MY lobby!


End file.
